Unfinished

 I've been helping redecorate the family home lately. We all know how it goes - age catches up to things and trends change and what was once in is now out and what you never got around to doing suddenly bothers you too much until you're finally going to do something about it. 

Walking around the antique store, I'm looking for old that can go in the house and make it new again. Renew the space. Refresh the eyes. And I'm struck as I look at all the unfinished things: boxes of doorknobs and handles, furniture in need of some wood-oil and tender, loving care, lamps without a shade, books without a cover... even a huge stainless window of the Christ Himself which looks to have taken out of an old church or something. I smile at the image of it all and the fact that even Jesus looks a little neglected - relegated to a back corner where only one looking for Him could find Him. 

It's all though all this square footage in this store is indicative of real life - all of us searching for something to restore us, waiting for the love we desperately need... heap of missing pieces and broken things that we are. And only by going deeper into the mess do we find One waiting for us who is the answer to it all. 

I shake my head and ask myself half-aloud, what is my relationship with the unfinished parts of me? Sometimes I think I'm pretty bad at accepting the fact that I'm a work in progress. That I'm not as restored as I think I am and that I've farther to go than I want to believe. Sometimes I hate the as yet unredeemed sides of me, even as I notice the Master craftsmanship laced throughout. I have glimpses of who I'm becoming but constant reminders of who I've been. 

I realize that, if I cannot accept this, I cannot accept the fact that my saving is on-going. It's not just about a one-time prayer that ensured me of my eternal destination. It's a lifestyle that is constantly shaping me, moving me, transforming me. It's called being sanctified. And whoever thought a simple choice to follow Him would undo a lifetime of habits and patterns and old ways instantly has been sold a bill of goods. 

I look around the store and see how every single thing in here has a history. That there would be some mighty fine stories to tell if these things could talk. All the places they'd been, all the life they'd seen, all the conventions they were privy to. And all these experiences and moves added to the charm of them. Age has only increased their value. The hands that touched them, gentle or rough though they were, contributed to the stories that are these pieces. 

And maybe, I need to start looking at my own life this way too. That even the harsh things and the dislocations and the selling off and the changes all keep adding to God's narrative of the life that is me. And the unfinished parts are perhaps not as ugly as I think but, in His eye, have become part of the unique beauty of my personal journey. Like the antiques, maybe my imperfections aren't as bad as I think sometimes. Maybe it's actually exactly that that adds to the appeal. 

Walking around on creaky floors and touching all the time-weathered things, I remind my soul that, in this life, I will never be as good as I hope. But I'll also never be as bad as I would've been had I not been rescued and put in the Master's workshop for repair. My healing is evidence that the unfinished parts are being dealt with and I'm not a lost cause. 

And the same, friend, is true for you. As much as we may hate the unsightly parts of ourselves, it's also what evidences our humanity and opens up the opportunity for God's divine handiwork to shine through the brighter. All our scratches and all our cracks aren't things to hide but rather parts of the story to embrace. We may be unfinished, but we're still His lovable, ugly-beautiful mess that He treasures and what's been cast aside is the exact thing that makes Him want us for Himself even more. 

So let's be a little gentler with ourselves. Let's try to see ourselves as He sees us and give our unfinished parts a bit more grace. Even the most painful things are still adding to the varnish that is our lives, reminding us that God is still working, still using everything to make us more like Himself yet still taking us just as we are and helping us see that imperfect things are precisely what He loves most.